


The Virus

by undasrego



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Found Family, M/M, Philip is adorably clueless, Zombie Apocolypse Au, actual realistic survival skills in the apocolypse, ahh zombies, alex and john are redneck boyfriend, and we love him for that, begrudgingly found family, johns like deep south redneck, like gardening and weaving, like squirrel jerky for lunch moonshine for dinner redneck, set in the deep deep south, which of course means a characters refusal to say the word zombie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undasrego/pseuds/undasrego
Summary: It started with a virus, poor leadership, and three million stupid, stupid people. It ended with almost the entire population of the earth dead. Alex and John were lucky enough to still have each other, and to have the few people who survived as well. Then, along came that sweet doe-eyed kid, with the curly hair and the inability to point a gun, and trouble followed.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Theodosia Burr Alston/Philip Hamilton
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25





	1. It's the End of the World as We Know It

**Author's Note:**

> hehe i post new story :)

The virus began as a Covid mutation. It caused intense seizures, and then a loss of brain activity until you died about three days later. For a long time, it stayed like this, more and more people developing the disease, more and more dying painfully.

But then, as oil regulations fell, and fracking became more prominent, the water started going bad. It started to have this off-taste to it, no matter where it came from. The smart ones began to buy it bottled, the rest listened to the voices coming from the white house.

Things would’ve stayed that bad, they truly would’ve, but then the infestation came. Little white bugs that you could just barely see, hiding from the tainted water in the crop, still there when families dug in for a big dinner. Scientists called them Efialtiscimex or nightmare bug. It wasn’t that they couldn’t find a repellent that worked, it’s just that they found it far too late.

The first patient is highly debated. Some say China, some say England, some say Florida. No one actually knows. The public was blind to the situation until it was impossible to keep a secret. Government agencies would go in and evacuate people, claiming it was because the poison in the water had reached dangerous levels. The National Guard was sent in to supposedly keep any stragglers moving, and handle anyone who resisted.

Rumors began when people stopped calling back. When worried mothers spoke on TV, wondering why their child in the National Guard wasn’t answering their texts. The government had an excuse for that one too, saying that they had cut cell reception to the evacuated areas. But then others came forward, saying that was impossible because their loved ones _were_ answering their calls and texts.

The government never actually broke the news about the virus. A prepper had hidden in his bunker, some underground swamp hole in Florida, and managed to catch the walkers on a video camera, before posting it to YouTube. He claimed that the water was filled with mind-controlling nanobots, that the government was trying to take control of the people, and doing special experiments. That was what everyone thought for a few months. Later, they would wish that that was the case.

It was a mismanaged patient. The wrong admission date was written, and they were released after three days, not the usual four weeks. It had only started out as two, in the very beginning, but at the time, it was four, to really make sure that people weren’t sick with the virus.

The unfortunate part was the fact that this patient was, and if they had stayed two days more, doctors would’ve known.

Scientists said it started out with an incredible hunger, one like you’ve never felt before. The kind that made you eat until you threw up and then continue eating. The patient that slipped through the cracks, he spent six hours in a Mcdonald's, switching between the table and the toilet.

A worker called the cops, but the guy dashed when he saw the car pull in.

Driving home, the patient had uncontrollable road rage. The police were called four more times by different people, reporting a car that was swerving, leaning on the horn, cursing and screaming, almost hitting other cars.

The patient ended up crashing his car into a light post and dashing on foot.

It was in Chicago where this happened. A big bright city. The night was busy, it was a Friday of course, and everyone was out. In particular, a group of nursing school friends, young and beautiful, were just leaving a club to celebrate their last week of school. So of course, when they spotted a man, laying on his back in an alleyway, foam coming out of his mouth, they immediately thought to call an ambulance and help.

It wasn’t their fault, what happened to them. They were good nurses, they were ready and willing to help save a life. Had there been a God, they would’ve been rewarded for such good deeds, perhaps with a stranger paying for their latte, or finding a cool sticker. God was long dead though, and by the time the ambulance arrived, so were those girls.

It snowballed from there. First, a few people, then a few more. A strict quarantine was put into place, but people didn’t listen. Health officials stated that one should go to a hospital immediately if they had a fever, but people didn’t listen.

Even in countries where they were listening, officials were losing control of the virus. More and more people were dying. And then those people were coming back to life.

Only it wasn’t life, was it?

And oh God, it kept getting worse, and worse. Those safe at the moment could make memes about celebrities and politicians getting the virus, republican congressmen used it as an excuse to pass bills that lowered the gun purchasing age, made them cheaper, and put no limits or restrictions on any sort of weapon.

Many of those people were dead within the next week.

Those who wanted to survive needed to cut all emotional ties to everyone. Teachers, parents, friends, they all needed to be cut, because there was a very real chance one would have to point the barrel of a gun at their loved one, and in a time like that, the balls to pull the trigger were more than necessary.

Luckily, that was easy for Alexander Hamilton, because he loved nothing and no one.

Except for his fiance, John.

And his dog, Ralph.

But Alex justified both. It was smart to love John. He was strong, a good shooter since he was a redneck squirrel hunter most of his life, and he had no family left.

It was also smart to love Ralph because he was a very good boy.

John and Alex had met in Oklahoma City. John was a mechanic with a lengthy build and an intense nicotine addiction. Alex was an environmental activist, trying to raise awareness about the poor water quality. It was two years before the virus would take over.

They met in a hick bar downtown, when John tried to throw a wrench at his friend, a long-running joke that they couldn’t really explain, but ended up hitting Alex square in the face. All it took was a pint and a nervous apology from that southern accent, and Alex had forgiven John right away.

They both were intrigued by the other. Alex was from the city, spoke at seminars and conferences, wore fake leather shoes, and ate sushi. John was the most redneck hick Alex had ever met. The man lived in a barn on a pig farm and pimped out trucks for mudding. They talked until the bar closed that night, Alex telling John about every city up north that he had been to, and John showing Alex a large pig bite scar on his arm and explaining that, while sweet and unique, pigs were also viscous at the smell of blood.

John moved around a lot, but so did Alex, so for a few months, it was them meeting in hick bars, sometimes by chance, sometimes because John made the hour drive to where Alex was. Both of them could relate to each other. Alex’s family was dead, John was dead to his family. Both were broke, both didn’t like the shit that the oil companies were pulling, and both pushed the other out of their comfort zone.

Yes, Alex threw up after going truck mudding with John, and yes, John mistook wasabi for guacamole and made a scene in a run-down Japanese restaurant, but they supposed they loved each other. It didn’t take long for John, the free spirit that he was, to just go where Alex was going. He always found work, on a farm, in a shop. Even if no one needed a mechanic, there was always someone who had a pile of pig shit here and wanted it there.

Their love blossomed with liquor from the hotel minibar, with the hysterics they’d go into, realizing their single king had been turned into double queens. But they both supported each other in ways they had never experienced.

Neither of them had proposed to the other, they just agreed to get married. Of course, it was John who came home with Ralph. Ralph was a stray, eating trash out behind a bad Chinese restaurant. He had these big brown hound dog eyes that made him look sad all the time. And just like that night when Alex found himself kissing a wrench at full force, he couldn’t say no to that soft southern accent.

Even though Alex was hard and tough with everyone else, even though he refused to let down his walls, it was different with John. He didn’t know why, but he supposed it was because he loved John, and he had never loved anyone like that before. Ever. Part of John knew that, but he never brought it up, because there was no reason to. It didn’t cause any problems, and it was almost endearing, to watch Alex switch from his hard, calloused self, to loving, and almost vulnerable.

When the virus went into full swing, they were in Tennessee. People had begun looting. John and Alex had thrown their few belongings into their truck, along with Ralph, and began to drive east. Because the radio was saying to go east. When they got to Georgia, the radio was telling them to go west. John found an abandoned REI and the two rummaged for camping gear, hearty clothes, and good boots. There had been rumors that the infected liked to buy bite, so Alex followed John’s lead, buying thick Carhartt pants, big bunny boots, good jackets, and tough clothes.

They drove until they hit rural land, then drove even further. There were a few abandoned homes up in the Appalachians. John hunted and shot squirrels, Alex rationed the cans of vegetables and beans, learned to tell the difference between poisonous and non-poisonous mushrooms.

When the sounds of groaning grew louder, and Ralph began to bark more often, they left.

They drove around the south for three months, finding gas in burnt-out cars, avoiding those infected with the virus as best as possible. The nights were long, the radio no longer played music or anything.

Alex didn’t know where the majority of the infected were, but he also knew that they stuck to rural towns, towns with few living people to begin with. For those first few months, they didn’t talk much. Alex wasn’t a great shot at first, but a quick learner.

They stole a police scanner and every day, began to speak into it, asking if anyone was out there. For eight months, there was no response. For eight months, they wondered if they were the only ones left, at least in the area. For eight months, they lived but didn’t survive.

Then the voice of Eliza Schuyler came in through the radio. It was late when they heard it, they were on their last bit of food, in rural Virginia. Both were tired, and hungry, and just about ready to give up, and then they heard it.

“Breaker breaker-” Her voice sounded exhausted like she had said what she was saying a million times. “Welcome back to radio with Eliza Schuyler. We’re here on channel one, bringing you the best post-apocalypse news since the hallucinations. We got any survivors out there? Anyone. Feel free to call in. The first caller wins tickets to the next Beyonce concert.”

Eliza Schuyler and her group were just a mile away, just down the road. It was her, her sister Peggy, and then their friend Aaron, and his daughter, Theo. Alex and John showed up, tired, and haggard.

From then on, they stuck with the group, traveling around Virginia, heading south in the winter. Eliza was one of the scientists working to stop the virus, and she still was, even if it was difficult. But she’d have John and Alex go out and get her a walker, cut off the arms and bottom jaw, then bring it to her.

And that was how they lived. It had been about twenty months since the virus had taken a full swing, a year since they had joined up with Eliza, Peggy, Aaron, and Theo.

Because Eliza had been so ahead of the curve, she was also more prepared. She had a camper that she had renovated into a garden, she had hooked up solar panels to grow lights in the camper. She even had a bee box.

Overall, life with the group was nice, and peaceful almost. As peaceful as it could be. Sure, they would sometimes pack up in the middle of the night, because Ralph had begun to bark, and the echoing of a hundred groaning bodies grew closer, but they traveled light, and never really unpacked.

It was the beginning of summer when they pulled into a recreational campsite in a hot humid part of Georgia. Ralph led them to a creek almost instantly, more because he was a dog who was hot and thirsty, rather than the fact that he understood why a creek was important. He was still praised, and given a bit of squirrel jerky, which only he and John would eat.

They were unaware that just ten miles away, a young boy sat in an abandoned grocery store, eating a twenty-four ounce can of tangerine oranges and wondering if he was going to live to see the next day, but assuming not.

That young boy was unaware that Alex and John were headed in his direction, in hopes to find a little bit of food for the group, an old IWW CD blasting, even though unions weren’t a thing that existed anymore.

They were both unaware that their paths were about to cross. 


	2. Help Me, Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I do is watch true crime videos and lie.

“Ethan Daniel Davidson,” John stated definitively. “That’s who I woulda wanted to see in concert.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Love him.” John turned down the CD a little bit. “Always meant to see him, never got around to it.”

“Maybe he’s still alive,” Alex offered, looking over at the man. “Living in a yurt somewhere.”

“Doubt it.” A laugh was emitted from John’s throat, his Adam's apple bobbing a bit. “What about you?”

Alex thought for a little bit. “Styrgil Simpson.”

“You did see him.”

“Yeah, but I’d like to see him again.”

“Maybe he’s alive.”

Alex shook his head lightly, staring out the window. “Maybe. He was a badass. The only artists I really regret not seeing were dead long before the virus. Bowie, Queen, Prince. Although, I would’ve liked to see Springsteen or Greenday.”

“I woulda liked to be there in eighty-two, when they did that live recording of music for the IWW.”

“I bet you would’ve.”

John smiled a little bit at Alex, then looked forward at the road. “Say what you will, but traffic since the virus has been amazing.”

Alex took a cigarette out of the dashboard and lit it up. “You’re stupid.”

“Those’ll kill you,” John stated, taking one for himself and letting Alex light it.

“Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Alex turned to his partner. “People getting their innards turned into their outards, millions of mindless walkers trying to take a bite out of your kidney, and I die from lung cancer.”

“Alanis Morrissette.” John nodded a bit. “Yeah, she woulda been a good one.”

“We should keep an eye out for one of her CDs.”

John looked forward at the road. “I’m running low on gas.”

“Let’s find a gas station, there’s gotta be one.”

“I’m surprised most of them still work,” John muttered. “Woulda thought the world would run out.”

“Well, walkers don’t use gas, and those generators haven’t burned up yet. Only a matter of time though.”

“What’ll we do then?”

Alex shrugged.

“We could find a couple of horses, pack up all our shit, and head south, somewhere it don’t get cold.”

“Somewhere with a beach.” Alex took a breath. “Wonder just how clean the oceans are, now that there ain’t no people, bugging them up.”

John smiled. “Only you could find a bright side in all this.”

Alex reached back to pet Ralph. The truck was an old one, it didn’t have a back seat, but it did have a window, connecting the cab with the bed, so they kept it open, and when Ralph needed a break from letting his lips flap in the wind, he’d stick his head through to get a scritch.

“The patch on your pants is getting worn down,” John pointed out, nodding towards the knee of Alex’s Carhartts, which had been patched about six months ago with fabric from denim jeans.

“Yeah. Still got the jeans I cut up to patch 'em, I think I put ‘em in Peggy’s fabric trunk.” Alex sighed a bit. “I better die before these pants wear out.”

“The knees are the first to go in pants, you have at least another forty years.”

“Well, thank God the average life-span has been sliced in half.”

John laughed a bit, then nodded to the road up ahead. “Walker.”

“Slow down.” Alex pulled out his axe and rolled down the window. He got on his knees, then stuck his torso out of the window. “Remember baseball?”

“You’re sick.” John laughed a bit, grabbing the back of Alex’s pants to make sure he didn’t fall out of the truck.

“Here’s the pitch!” Alex pulled back his axe and then swung hard, taking the walker’s head clean off. “It’s going! It’s going! It’s gone! Hamilton has done it again, a grand slam!”

“Damn, I wish I married you before the world went to shit.”

Alex rolled his eyes and looked out the window. John knew the man was smiling, but let Alex hide it.

“Food ‘n’ Stuff,” John read aloud. “Come on, let’s go loot.”

Alex smiled a bit as they got out of the car. Ralph was let out as well since he was a good guard dog. He wouldn’t fight, no, he didn’t have a mean bone in his body, but he’d make damn well sure you knew someone was there.

“Dog food,” Alex stated. “Let’s make sure to get another bag. We’re running low.”

“Got it.”

The couple walked in, armed and ready, before grabbing some carts and knocking whatever looked good into their carts. Toilet paper, washcloths, baby wipes, canned goods, any sort of weaponry, vegetable and fruit seeds, dog food. They didn’t rely much on old grocery stores for food, they were pretty self-sustaining, growing fruits and veggies in Eliza’s horse trailer, John hunting for anything from squirrels to deer, depending on where they were. Their grocery store trips were for nonperishables, like big bags of rice, beans, and oatmeal, and then non-food items. In Eliza’s opinion, you could never have enough rice, seeds, or weapons. Alex respected her for that.

“Where do you think we should end up?” John asked. “We can’t keep moving forever.”

“In my opinion? California. Good for growing, a lot of old buildings.”

“Lot of old walkers too,” John pointed out, putting two bags of dog food in his cart.

“Guess so.” He opened up a back of stale chips and began to snack. “I miss Hawaiian onion chips.”

“That shit was gross. Rather eat squirrel.”

“You love squirrel.”

“Yeah, you right.” John sighed a bit. “Look for soy sauce, I’m sick of rice and butter.”

“You look, I’m raiding the skunked beer and old vodka.” Alex picked up a bottle of Smirnoff and sighed. “You need to make more moonshine.”

“It’s fermenting, be patient.”

Alex smiled, but it faded when Ralph began to growl. Alex followed the dog’s gaze to a door in the back, one that led to a stock room, or something of the likes.

“Hey, he growling?” John asked.

“Yeah,” Alex muttered, pulling out his gun.

“No guns, could be more around.” John spoke in a low voice, his country accent adding a charming slur to the words.

Alex put his gun back and pulled his axe from the hammer loop in his pants. “It’s coming from the back.”

John took a breath and inched closer to the back door. “Alright, I’m gonna kick the door, you get ready.”

Alex positioned himself like a batter, his axe tightly gripped in his hand.

John kicked the swinging door, everyone flinched, but nothing happened.

“I’m gonna do it, watch my back,” Alex stated slowly, moving towards the door.

John nodded and the two of them inched into the storeroom together. It was eerily quiet, and most walkers would’ve been making some sort of noise, or already be coming at them.

Alex’s eyes were drawn to a back corner, behind a shelf. He had heard a box shift and quietly made his way over, before jumping around the corner and swinging his axe at the body behind it.

“Ah! Please don’t hurt me!”

Alex’s axe had landed solidly in a box of paper towels, so it didn’t fall when Alex’s grip on it disappeared. It was shocking to both him, and John, and Ralph, who was now in the room. Because instead of a half-dead, rotted corpse that wanted to eat them, it was a kid.

Sort of a kid.

Alex guessed, in a quick moment of observation, he had to be no more than sixteen, with curly hair and wide brown eyes. He had a thin build and a sharp facial structure. The site of a sixteen-year-old before the virus had always elicited little to no emotions from Alex, but things were different now. You couldn’t trust everyone.

So Alex pulled a gun on the kid.

“Who else is here?” He asked. “Tell me, now, or I’ll shoot you.”

“No one! No one! It’s just me!”

“Bullshit.”

“Alex,” John warned. “Calm down.”

“No.” Alex looked back at the kid. “Who else is here?”

“No one! It’s just me! I’ve been here for a few weeks, but it’s just been me!”

John grabbed Alex’s wrist and forced his hand down, staring at the kid as he did so, trying to send the message that just because he was a bit more rational than his partner, didn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot if there was something going on.

“What’s your name, kid?” He asked.

“Phillip Manning.”

John looked at Alex, then back at Phillip. He was thinking.

“Have been alone since this thing started?”

“Yes.” Phillip was a very good liar.

“And you’re alone now?”

“Yes.” Phillip didn’t need to lie that time.

John paused another moment. “Stay here.” He pulled Alex out of the storeroom and stationed the two in front of the door, so Phillip couldn’t make a run for it. “I think we should bring him back with us.”

“Back where? To our camp? No.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“And that’s really rough, I won’t deny that, it’s gotta be, but we don’t have the food, nor do we have the _time_ to take care of some kid!”

“If he’s lasted this long, he obviously doesn’t need to be taken care of, and we have enough food. We’ve had to start canning it. He won’t make us starve.”

“I don’t like any of this. I got a bad feeling about it, John.”

“You’ve had a bad feeling about everything since this virus started.” John peered through the window, getting a glimpse of Phillip’s curious face. “Alex, he’s just a kid. Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to show that kind of kindness to you at that age?”

Alex frowned. “I don’t like this.”

“I know. But you don’t like anything. You don’t like squirrel jerky for Christ’s sake.”

“I like you.”

John smiled and kissed Alex’s temple. “If it goes south, you can call off the wedding.”

“I will,” Alex threatened.

“I know.” John pushed the doors back open and looked at Phillip. “Hey, you got your heart in this place?”

Phillip looked around, then shook his head. “No.”

“We got a camp, about fifteen miles from here. You wanna come back and get a warm meal?”

Phillip seemed hesitant for a moment but nodded.

“Pack your shit, we’ll be out front,” Alex muttered, not liking this one bit. He and John grabbed a few more things before loading up the back of the truck. Phillip met them out front, and Alex took a moment to get a good look at the kid. He wasn’t dressed for the apocalypse, with his thin sneakers, hoodie, and khaki joggers. The clothes looked relatively new though, and Alex assumed he probably picked them up from somewhere old and abandoned.

John gestured to the hound dog. “This is Ralph, if he growls, something is nearby.” He pointed to Alex. “That’s my partner, Alex. And I’m John.”

“Hi.”

Alex grunted.

“He takes a long time to warm up to you, but he will.”

“No, I won’t,” Alex confirmed. “I’m driving.”

“He said the exact same thing about Ralph.”

Phillip sat in the middle, John sat in the passenger seat. Alex picked a different CD, some Prince, and started to drive.

“Prince,” John muttered aloud. “He would’ve been a nice one to see.”

“Who’s Prince?” Phillip asked.

Alex gave Phillip an odd look.

“Dude, I was like, twelve when this thing started.”

“He’s this old pop star, first black guy to get his music video on MTV, and-”

“What’s MTV?”

“You’re killing me, kid, making me feel so old.” John laughed a bit, looking out the window for a second. He had thought he saw a walker in the woods, but it was just a deer. “It was this station on TV, it played music and music videos.”

“On TV?”

“Yeah.” John smiled. “They were originally pretty rock-based, but they got more pop as they developed.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, kid, you’re not exactly growing up in, well, normal circumstances.”

Phillip chuckled a bit.

John looked out the window, spotting a half-rotted walker. Eventually, they all rotted down to nothing. They weren’t dead, but they were dying, their brain just hadn’t gotten the message. “We’ll get a meal in you when we get back to camp, figure things out from there, alright?”

Phillip nodded.

“Alright,” John confirmed.

“John, walker.”

John rolled down the window and shot a zombie through the eye socket. The truck kept on going. 


End file.
